


Only in Dreams

by lovelydarkanddeep



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anon fic request, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force smut, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Poor Rey, Smut, Teasing, This force bond is a tricky thing, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, fic request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-21 21:50:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelydarkanddeep/pseuds/lovelydarkanddeep
Summary: Three fics relating to dreaming reylo and naughty, naughty nights."Throwing back the sheets, Rey finds her thighs slick and shiny white with Kylo’s cum.She stares at it in shock.And then, as if entranced, she slides a finger through it and brings it to her lips."- - -"He awakes a flushed mess, having cum all over himself in this torrid dream.He sits up, head in his hands, breathing slowly until his heart rate returns to an appropriate rhythm.It is only when he pulls his hands away from his face that he notices the telltale glistening of Rey’s viscid arousal soaking his pruned fingers.And, pulling back his sheets, finds the same soaked stain bedecking them as Rey’s own."_____________________________________________Filling this anon prompt on Tumblr: 'Rey has a dream of Kylo masturbating to her - she wakes up to find his spend on her thighs'and: 'I read Only in Dreams (and loved it) and was thinking... what if it's a similar situation but the roles are reversed? I don't know, just an idea.'





	1. Only in Dreams

Rey’s dreams are usually a confliction of emotion and sensation.

 

Regret, anger, sadness. Tears trailing down cheeks, aching insides, broken light.

 

She knows that this is Ben without hesitation.

 

Tonight, though, her dreams are encompassed by the sound of panting, of heat prickling up the back of her neck, of a slow, delicious burn in her stomach. Red and hot and desperate.

 

“ _Rey_.”

 

This...this is Kylo Ren.

 

She is powerless to stop it as she opens her eyes and finds herself in front of a sweaty, if deranged-looking Kylo furiously stroking his weeping cock.

 

His dark eyes, pupils completely blown, flicker to her briefly, before seemingly dismissing her, his hand pumping again and again around his flushed, leaking member.

 

She cannot tell if she is more surprised by the sight in front of her, or the way he receives her.

 

She knows this is a dream, that it’s not real, that she’s not really there like she could be when she’s awake. This is simply her subconscious self in his torrid imagination.

 

So maybe that is why, instead of turning away in disgust, she instead openly stares.

 

“Rey,” he growls out, unfocused, and she’s jolted by what the harsh utterance does to her, her inner thighs slick with her own arousal.

 

She edges closer, perched on the side of his small bed, the black silk sheets sliding beneath her suddenly bare thighs.

 

She’s not sure who is controlling this dream, if she is a participant or an onlooker, but she is now only clothed in the bare minimum - arm wraps and her breast band.

 

Her arm wraps bedeck her arms, twining upwards - untouched.But her breast band is pulled down, arranged so that her breasts are swelling over the top, pushed up invitingly, nipples a flushed pink and teasingly pebbled.

 

The sound of his resulting snarl as he drinks her in has her rubbing her bare thighs together, desperate for friction. She receives none, however, her thighs too slick.

 

Suddenly, his hands are gone from his cock and he is instead pulling her over him, settling her down on his upper thighs.

 

She is stretched across him, kneeling with one leg on either side of his hips.

 

His cock nudges against the thatch of hair and the bundle of nerves at the cradle of her thighs.

 

Rey jerks in response, hands reaching out to grip his shoulders, fingernails carving out ten distinct crescent moons in the pale flesh there.

 

She inwardly refuses to do anything more, enjoying the sight of a needy Kylo Ren at her mercy, begging for her touch.

 

In response, he shoots her a glare and resumes his own stroking, eyes trailing down her lithe form to rest between her thighs.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, Rey parts her lower lips with her index and middle finger, baring herself to his dark, heady gaze.

 

At the sight of her dripping pink cunt bared to him, he chokes on a breath, trying desperately to continue to inhale, in vain.

 

A smirk flirts at Rey’s lips before she slips those two fingers inside herself with a wet slurp, her thumb rubbing at her exposed clit in slow, deliberate circles.

 

Kylo’s cock twitches in his grip, and, against all possibility, he finds himself even harder.

 

Rey is riding her fingers now, rocking up and down on them atop his thighs, thumb swirling madly.

 

Kylo’s uninhibited view of her pussy clenching around her digits causes his breath to come in desperate puffs, and a trickle of sweat crawls down the side of his brow.

 

His lips are flushed red, pouty and slick with saliva as he pants beneath her wantonly.

 

Rey finally contorts, face clenched in a pleasured grimace, her mouth open and eyes closed as she orgasms around her fingers.

 

He peaks too, finds his release after seeing hers with a sound that is a mix between a growl, a moan, and a whine.

 

Hot, white seed coats Rey’s thighs and lower stomach, dripping in its filthy excess.

 

The sound and sight has Rey spasming again around her fingers, a second orgasm ripping through her, leaving her lightheaded and untethered. 

 

She wakes then, heart pounding, breath catching, and...wet.

 

But it’s too much - it’s not just her own wetness between her legs.

 

Throwing back the sheets, Rey finds her lower half slick and shiny white with Kylo’s cum, dribbling down her stomach and legs.

 

She stares at it in shock.

 

And then, as if entranced, she slides a finger through it and brings it to her lips.

 

The taste of him, salty with a hint of musk, rolls over her tastebuds.

 

She thinks she hears a groan through their bond.

 

Minutes later in the fresher, she wipes away any trace of him from her skin with a damp cloth.

 

But she knows ( _deep down_ ) that no matter how hard she scrubs, she will never be rid of him.


	2. At Night, Desperate to Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo appears to Rey and helps her with a little problem she has.

It is not often that Rey so clearly projects down their bond.

 

In times of anger, yes. Mostly in fear or sadness.

 

But this experience is one entirely new to Kylo.

 

The bond thrums with a languid resonance that has him both hot and cold, an intent focus on achieving only one goal - a physical _need_.

 

He’s subconsciously adrift in a crimson sea of regret and pain when he feels it - that need, that desperation. And then he’s abruptly pulled from his dream and dropped into a new scene.

 

He shivers slightly in the cool air, clad only in loose sleeping pants that he wore to bed.

 

The room is dimly lit, awash in dark grays and blues, the only light radiating dimly from a light pod floating on the edge of the room.

 

Nevertheless, his eyes make out the telltale shapes of habitation: a table and chair, a chest, the door to a fresher, and, finally, a bed built into the wall.

 

He is not at all surprised to find Rey there, on the bunk, but what he sees her doing has him pausing, blinking.

 

She’s entirely bare, naked to the cool air. Her legs are spread, and she has a hand between them at the junction of her thighs.

 

Her hand moves in ever-faster circles, head thrown back on her pillow, hair haloed about her head and eyes closed.

 

She has her lip between her teeth, and her hips undulate to the rhythm her middle and pointer fingers set.

 

She is the image of desperation, of need for a physical release.

 

She whines lowly into the air, and it has his blood rushing south, filling his rigid cock furiously.

 

“Kylo-”

 

He stiffens, sure she’s seen him.

 

But she doesn’t open her eyes.

 

With a start, he realizes that she’s imagining him.

 

 _Him_ , not that simpering weakling Ben Solo.

 

_Kylo Ren._

 

A man of darkness, of predatory violence, and - apparently - of her sexual desires.

 

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Painfully so.

 

He approaches her form, watching her ministrations, the way she roughly handles herself - imagining how he would do the same?

 

A rough squeeze to her breast, her right hand still furiously working away at her clit.

 

And yet she seems no closer to orgasm than she did when he first appeared.

 

He realises then why she is so desperate.

 

She can’t reach her peak - its unattainable.

 

She growls as if in response to his thought, low in her throat, before flinging her hand away from her and opening her eyes, made dark with anger.

 

Immediately, the sight of him above her has her jumping in shock, straightening and scooting towards the opposite side of the bed. It is pushed against the wall, so her retreat is useless, instead caging her into him.

 

Had she really not known he was there? He wonders, eyeing the way she’s brought her knees up to her chest in a defensive measure.

 

The action incidentally grants him an uninhibited view of her dripping cunt.

 

As if realizing this, she tries to shift into a new position, but freezes as he sets a single knee on the bed.

 

He slowly, determinedly shifts himself onto the bunk, small and cramped but smelling of her sweet arousal.

 

She eyes him stonily from her corner, looking all too much like prey staring down the predator.

 

He says nothing, going no further, simply meeting her gaze, his pupils blown and eyes an intent black.

 

Rey sees a dark predatory fervour in those eyes, a fervour that she cannot lie to herself and wrongly label as bloodlust like she had for all their previous encounters.

 

In Rey’s eyes, Kylo sees a harsh pride - despite their situation, her eyes hold the same steely determination as when she first fought him on Starkiller.

 

Tension burns between them, like sparks drifting in that red throne room. Crackling, electric, magnetic.

 

Finally, eyes still locked with his, she slowly opens her legs to him.

 

They remain still for a bated moment, the air between them warm with their shared breath.

 

Not breaking their gaze, he shifts closer, his large, warm hands coming up to trail down her bare thighs.

 

She's smooth and soft, and he likes it.

 

Slowly, deliberately, he leans in to brush his lips across her jaw, her neck, nipping lightly.

 

Rey stiffens then melts, burning yet shivering, and he’s barely touched her yet.

 

His hand drifts down her stomach, past her navel, settling at the thatch of damp curls at the cradle of her thighs.

 

His hand is hot and heavy against her slick heat, and she waits with bated breath for him to touch her.

 

Instead, blowing a cool breath across her nipples, he watches them peak. He is content to keep her on edge, knowing it is only making her more ready for him.

 

Rey shifts, much too prideful to beg, but attempts to push her hips into his hand in a physical indication of her want.

 

Kylo’s lip twitches in response, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

 

Slowly, he lifts her leg, pressing his mouth delicately to the soft skin just inside her knee.

 

Electricity buzzed through her veins, thrumming deliciously.

 

Another kiss, this one higher up, followed by one just at her inner thigh.

 

Rey’s eyes are closed again, so when he nips at her hipbone, she jolts.

 

She shoots him a murderous glare, but his face is all amusement.

 

She is no longer the whining creature from earlier when she thought herself alone. No, now she is a demanding Loth-cat, snarling, taking as much as she gives.

 

This is more a battle than a concession of will.

 

He wants to see her undone like earlier, is determined to have her pliant and supple beneath him, moaning his name once more.

 

His hand dares to part her, and he pauses as he feels just how wet she is for him.

 

“How long have you been at this?” he murmurs to her in a voice made for sin. “How long have you been touching yourself and wishing it was me?”

 

She doesn’t reply, eyes hard and teeth gritted, as he slowly spreads her viscous arousal around her aching cunt.

 

“Answer me,” he commands, flicking at her clit.

 

She spasms, eyes full of surprise and barely concealed vexation.

 

“ _No_.”

 

The words are barely intelligible, a gruff snarl of futile resistance.

 

He feels a smirk pull at his lips, sitting back and removing his hands from her.

 

“Only good girls get touched, kitten.”

 

He decides that he likes the nickname after he tests it on his tongue, thinks that it fits her Loth-cat persona.

 

“I’m not a good girl,” she hisses, baring her teeth in denial.

 

“No,” he agrees, cocking his head as he stares her down.

 

“You’re absolutely feral, aren’t you?”

 

She seems momentarily confused by his words, but a lick of the Force against her engorged clit has her clutching at the sheets in an attempt to keep her hands off herself.

 

“Tell me what I️ want to know and I’ll help you, kitten. I️ just want an answer.”

 

It sounds so reasonable coming from his silver-tongued mouth, so easy.

 

Her pride slips a fraction.

 

“Too long,” she mutters, her forearm covering her face.

 

“What was that?” he’s asking, hearing her perfectly.

 

“Too long,” she stressed again, indignant eyes flickering to him as she shifts her forearm away from her face.

 

“Days?” he asks her, suddenly sliding a finger into her dripping heat.

 

She clenches around him, so goddamn _tight_.

 

He pumps in and out of her languidly, at his own pace, much to her annoyed huffs.

 

“I️ asked you a question, kitten. Has it been only days that you’ve imagined my hands on you?”

 

Rey whimpers low in her throat as he adds another finger, hands tightening in the sheets.

 

“Yes,” she finally gasps out, the answer wrenched from her by the delicious dipping of his digits inside her.

 

“Just days? Not even weeks?”

 

“Weeks,” she manages to agree around her panting, around the feel of his third finger slipping inside her. It stretches her deliciously, his hands so goddamn _huge_.

 

He leans closer over her, leaning down to suck her entire left breast into his mouth.

 

She gasps, arching up against him at the intense sensation of suction.

 

He lets her go with a slick _pop_ , the debased sound of his mouth leaving her flushed breast making her moan.

 

A string of iridescent saliva connects his mouth and her breast, glimmering faintly in the dim light until it breaks delicately.

 

“Are you telling me the complete truth, kitten?”

 

He punctuates his statement with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers into her eager cunt, making her jerk against his form.

 

“N-n-no,” she finally manages around his increasingly rough thrusting, the slick, wet sound of his fingers pumping in and out of her echoing in the space between them.

 

“Tell me.”

 

Rey’s eyes are closed, thrashing beneath his hand.

 

And he hasn’t even touched her clit yet.

 

He backs off, making his fingers slow, almost to a complete stop.

 

She gives such a keening, pitiful whine that he has to contain himself from devouring her whole.

 

“Pl-please Kylo, I’m s-so close,” she’s begging him, tears of pleasure leaking from her dopamine-glazed eyes.

 

“Tell me, kitten, and I’ll let you cum.”

 

She shakes her head adorably, the very picture of confusion.

 

She’s already forgotten their conversation in the wake of her pleasure.

 

“How long have you thought about me touching you, touching that pretty pink pussy of yours?" he prompts her again. "Sliding my cock into you, my tongue flicking at your clit? Tell me and I’ll let you cum, sweetheart.”

 

Rey’s face scrunches up in want as his finger ever so slightly brushes at her slick folds.

 

He slicks a finger into her and she purrs - actually _purrs_ \- while thrusting her hips against his hand in an effort to get him to move more, faster, _something_.

 

Kitten is right, he thinks to himself at the noise leaving her rosebud lips.

 

Just as quickly, he slows his finger inside her.

 

She groans and then pants again as two fingers lazily enter her this time, barely moving, content to stay at their deliberately slow pace.

 

She mewls beneath his fingers, the attention he’s lavishing on her making her wetter by the second.

 

She says something but it’s so concealed by the sound of the bunk groaning beneath her form and her own sigh of breathy pleasure.

 

“What was that, kitten?”

 

“Months,” she finally manages, that third finger once more slipping inside her and taking her ever higher.

 

“Months?” he asks her, dark amusement colouring his tone.

 

“You’ve thought about me touching you for months, have you? Ever since the fight on Starkiller?”

 

She doesn’t answer, head thrown back and panting as his fingers once more resume their hard, fast pace.

 

He peers inside her mind, easily breaking through her flimsy defences and finding the source of her fantasies.

 

He grins then, his fingers halting inside of her unconsciously at his discovery.

 

He ignores her loud noise of protest, grabbing her jaw with his other hand and forcing her to look at him.

 

“You _liked_ being tied up in that interrogation chair with me, you dirty scavenger. You were so wet for me, dripping even, and I️ didn’t even know.”

 

He shakes his head in disbelief, smirk growing.

 

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to revisit this little realization another time - maybe use that lightsaber of mine in the way you’ve fantasized about.”

 

She sobs then, desperately, as his fingers drive into her and he concentrates the Force on her clit.

 

She’s thrashing under him, his little scavenger, an absolute strew of delicious noises and dirty curses leaving her lips.

 

“Come for me, kitten. Come for your Emperor.”

 

And she does.

 

He watches her soak through the sheets under her, absolutely gushing under his ministrations.

 

He would never have thought a scavenger, born of the harsh desert and dry sand, had an absolute spring of water to offer him from inside her.

 

He awakes a flushed mess, having cum all over himself in this depraved dream of his.

 

Sitting up, he places his head in his hands, breathing slowly until his heart rate returns to an appropriate rhythm.

 

It is only when he pulls his hands away from his face that he notices the telltale glistening of Rey’s viscid arousal soaking his pruned fingers.

 

And, pulling back the covers, finds the same soaked stain bedecking his sheets as Rey’s own.


	3. Reach Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgin Ben Solo tries his hand at Rey (ah, puns ;P )

The bond between them opens suddenly and without remorse, thrusting Ben into Rey’s reality with little pretense or warning.

 

The achingly familiar surroundings cause a lump to form in his throat, the smell of oil and machines and space, like smelted metal, overwhelming his senses. And another scent, one he can’t quite identify, but that leaves him oddly dry-mouthed.

 

The Falcon’s bunk room looked just like the last time he’d been on it, though he’d been considerably smaller.

 

There was, however, a new addition to the room.

 

She’s golden and bronze and tan and lithe all over the white sheets of the bunk.

 

And _bare_.

 

So very bare.

 

Her fingers pump slickly in and out of her, practiced undulations, and he’s granted an uninhibited view of her. Pink and dripping.

 

He chokes on spit.

 

He’s hard (uncomfortably so) in his pants, his erection straining at just a mere glimpse of this golden desert girl.

 

His gaze trails up her slim form, from the planes of her abdomen to the slight bouncing movements of her breasts, nipples rosy and perfect and- _fuck_.

 

His eyes trail higher, up to the planes of her face; to the scrunch of her freckled nose, her closed eyes, dark eyelashes fanning her cheekbones.

 

Her rosebud mouth is open, barely parted, but pants leave her mouth all the same.

 

“ _Rey_.”

 

The word, her name, is tumbling out of his lips before he knows it himself. It is a heady mix between a prayer and a plea.

 

She jumps, eyes flying open in shock.

  
Almost immediately, she scoots back against the bunk wall, grabbing the sheet and pulling it up to her sun-freckled chest.

 

“I-” he starts, then stops.

 

He’s unsure how to proceed, tongue-tied in front of this desert goddess in the midst of her play.

 

“What? You’ve never seen a girl touch herself before?” Rey snaps, red flaring on her cheeks despite her brash words.

 

Ben thinks he is flushed too. Knows he is by the heat at the tips of his ears, thankfully covered by his dark locks.

 

Rey blinks then, the very image of realisation. A slow, almost smug smile grows on her lips.  
  


“You haven’t, have you, Ben?”

 

He swallows thickly, wanting to look away from her honey-flecked gaze but immobile, as if he’s in a force grip. ( _Deep down, he knows she doesn’t even need to use the force to keep him there_ )

 

What she says is true.

 

He’s never done much of anything, excepting some pubescent experimenting at Luke’s temple. And even that wasn’t much of anything, hesitant fumbling and knocking teeth and an uncomfortable pressure of lips pressed against his with some girl he long forgot.

 

That, and imagining Rey beneath him every night, both before he sleeps and in his dreams. His hand caressing himself at the thought.

 

Rey shifts on the bed and the sheet dips slightly, giving him a glance at the slight swell of the top of her breasts.

 

He is hungry for her, he realizes, hungry for any part of her she will offer him.

 

Rey bites at her lip, brow furrowed with what looks like indecision. She gnaws at her lip once, twice, before her forehead smooths again - her decision apparently made.

 

“Do you want to?”

 

His heart stutters, his breath catches in his throat. He can’t breathe.

 

“W-what?”

 

Rey hesitantly, _slowly_ extends a hand to him, so much like that time on Ahch-To, lit by fire and the Force. It seems so long ago.

 

The sheet flutters to the bed, baring her upper half to his molten gaze.

 

He is a mess of thoughts, emotions, _feelings_ \- it’s almost too much to process.

 

She keeps her focus on his eyes, her gaze as steady as the hand that remains extended to him.

 

With a shuddering inhale, he reaches out and takes it.

 

She smiles.

 

* * *

 

He can’t believe he’s here.

 

With _her_.

 

Both bare and close and wanting.

 

He strokes himself with trembling hands, spreading precum over the head of him as he gazes at her.

 

Kneeled on either side of her hips on the bunk, eyes concentrated on where her fingers languidly slip in and out of her pussy, he breathes a steady exhale of devotion.

 

Rey smiles in response, soft and syrupy sweet. Her flushed cheeks are the same rose as her nipples.

 

Maker, he’d give her the entire galaxy. He’d _tried_ to.

 

He’s not sure what else he has to give her, what more he can offer this perfect, pink being before him.

 

Surely he is not enough.

 

She senses his thoughts, cocks her head.

 

The words are a far-off echo, as though they’ve been said before. In another place. In another time.

 

_All I want is your love, Ben. Just you._

 

His chest tightens, constricts.

 

He can do that. Give her all of him.

 

She can have what little he has to offer. He’d give it, _willingly_.

 

 _Ben_ , she says, and it’s possibly the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

 

He’s slotting his mouth over her’s then, none of the awkwardness of his pubescent years carrying over.

 

The kiss is passionate, but still a gentle admission, his frenzied panic quieted by mutual understanding.

 

She buries a hand in his hair, pulling him closer, the other shifting to languidly draw circles on her clit.

 

He braces a hand by her head, the other similarly stroking his turgid length.

 

He pulls away from her lips with a low groan, eyes casting downwards once more to watch her play with herself.

 

She shifts, moving her legs so that they’re spread on either side of him, neither embarrassed nor uncomfortable.

 

As he watches her fingers slip through her arousal, he jerks against his own hand, hips stuttering.

 

Her eyes are smug, but her smile is gentle as she grabs his hand away from his member and lowers it to her centre.

 

He is wide-eyed, breathless, as she slicks his fingers in her viscous arousal, before circling her nub with his fingers.

 

Her hand tightens on his, her hips undulating to the rhythm she helps him set.

 

“You need a teacher,” she breathes, eyes fluttering, bedroom eyes half-lidded and addled with lust.

 

His cock twitches at her words, _his_ words. From the forest.

 

“I can show you,” she promises, her own hand bringing his fingers down from her clit to where she is dripping for him.

 

Slowly, she has him slide a finger inside her, and he moans unbidden at the feeling of her slick, tight heat wrapped around his digit. She echoes him, just one of his large fingers equaling two of her own.

 

He slowly begins to move, two fingers inside her now, making her squirm beneath his hand.

 

He is in disbelief, on another plane of reality.

 

The feel of her, hot and wet around him, has him adding another finger.

 

She groans, low and long, and he pauses, sure he’s hurt her.

 

She grips his wrist in a deathly-tight embrace.

 

“Keep going,” she orders, but it is more a plea, her voice cracking with want.

 

He does, gasping as she shifts her grip from his wrist to grasp around his flushed cock, weeping for her.

 

He can tell in her movements that this is just as new to her, but nevertheless, he feels a familiar tingle at the base of his spine, a crescendo of warmth.

 

His fingers are plunging in and out of her harder now, causing her small breasts to bounce deliciously with each movement.

 

Acting on pure instinct, he leans down to suckle at her breast, rolling her dusky nipple in his mouth.

 

She arches against him, her hand squeezing unconsciously around him at his action.

 

He groans, grinds against her hand, moving to engulf her other nipple with his hot mouth, knowing he is close.

 

He rubs at the same bundle of nerves with his thumb, trying to keep the same pressure as she’d had him do earlier, but faster.

 

In less time than he’d thought, she’s shuddering beneath him, hips flopping.

 

He’s shuddering too, his own hips jerking, teeth gritted and breaths unsteady.

 

And then they’re both coming.

 

Their orgasms are amplified by the bond, feeling exactly what the other is feeling.

 

Rey screams, but he hardly hears her, his vision whiting out and ears ringing.

 

Both are unsure as to how long they are out of it, coming to what could be minutes - or hours - later.

 

Rey’s breasts, flat stomach, and the curls of her pubic hair are white with his cum, and he finds that some dark part of him loves it. Loves seeing her covered in his spend.

 

He’ll be on her skin for hours to come. She’ll _smell_ like him, his scent all over her.

 

She is still catching her breath, rosy and glowing, but her lips are softened. The flicker of a grin teases at her mouth, almost.

 

He leans down to brush a kiss on those pink lips, determined to see her smile.

 

He just wants to see her smile for him.

 

For _Ben Solo_.

 

Instead, his lips meet the cool, dark material of his pillow.

 

He clenches his fist.

 

* * *

 

The smell of burning and molten metal once more encases him.

 

His room is in smoke, burning and slashed to pieces by a crimson blade as unstable as he.

 

He breathes out a shuddering breath, feeling concern flicker over their bond.

 

It seems Kylo Ren is not as dead as he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual find me on [ tumblr ](https://youknowicantakewhateveriwant.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And welcome to the party bus to hell ;)


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